


Hell on...Thedas?

by Elfy_Elf_Elves



Series: The Various Troubles of Isabelle Winchester [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bittersweet Ending, Character Development, Dark Solas, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Get ready for an emotional rollercoaster, Hunters & Hunting, Jealousy, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Lucifer's Cage, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, OC is a bitch, Obsessed Solas, Obsession, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Relationship TBD, Rivalry, Sad OC, Solas Being Solas, Solas is Fen'Harel, Typical Winchester Angst, i might cry, i will cry, solas being creepy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-01-23 10:47:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12505680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfy_Elf_Elves/pseuds/Elfy_Elf_Elves
Summary: Modern Girl in Thedas, but with a twist. She's a Winchester.~Lucifer is out of Hell and the apocalypse has begun. The Winchesters know how to send him back to where he came from; one problem. One of them will have to sacrifice themselves in order to do it. Isabelle Winchester impulsively decided to be the one to dive head-first into hell. But if this is hell, then where is Lucifer and why are there so many attractive men?~





	1. What's a Hell?

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to my beta reader, jnhill66! Thanks for managing to make sense of my jumbled thoughts!

Ironic. There's no better word to describe today. The weather is picture perfect, the sun shines brightly with no cloud in sight. A crystal clear sky and a warm breeze replace the usual crisp fall weather. Trees sway to the song the chirping birds produce. Green grass gently brushes against my leg. It's a beautiful scene. The irony comes from the fact that the world is on the precipice of a demons vs. angels war.

Silence rings in the air. Anxiety is building up in the pit of my stomach. Part of me wants to scream and shout, I want to change my mind last minute and not go through with it, but I know I can't do that. It's selfish. I don't have the luxury of being selfish, never have. Tears well up in my eyes and slowly trickle down my cheeks. I clench my jaw and furrow my brows to try and control the sob that tries to leave my throat. Deep breaths, deep breaths.

In then out and repeat.

I can feel Lucifer fighting to regain control of my body. He desperately claws at my soul, the feeling similar to banging on a locked door. I pay no attention to him. On the ground, Dean leans against the Impala, his face bloody and broken from our fight. He doesn't say anything, doesn't move an inch. His eyes stare straight at me, a look of resignation in his eyes. He understands.

Even if it kills him to watch his baby sister throw herself into Hell.

We both know what needs to be done.

I put my hand in my pocket and feel the rings of the Four Horsemen. My eyes never leave Dean. Lips curled into a weak smile, head nodding slightly. Whether it's him I'm trying to reassure or myself; I don't know. We both know I won't be fine, but I can't back down now. Too much is at stake, my actions could mean saving the world or ending it. I tightly grip the rings in my hand and pull them out of my pocket and throw it to the ground. I mutter the incantation, briefly looking away from Dean.

My eyes land on Sam's still body. Before managing to take control of my body, Lucifer knocked Sam out in a fight. The steady rise and fall of his chest reassuring that he's alive. There are bruises and cuts covering his face, but not nearly as bad as Dean's injuries. A pang of guilt hits me. If I'd gotten control of my body sooner, neither Sam or Dean would be hurt, and Castiel and Bobby wouldn't be dead. But I can't focus on that right now. What's done is done.

Sam and Dean are fine.

They'll find a way to endure.

Once open, the portal slowly grows as it consumes the ground and creates a black hole. Heavy winds fill the area, causing my brunette hair to aggressively whip around my face. It dries my tears as they run down my face. They pour more frantically once I face Dean again.

Brown eyes staring at green.

It's slow at first. One small step backward and then another until I reach the edge of the portal. I pause briefly and spread my arms open like a bird taking flight and close my eyes. I can vaguely hear Michael, who took Adam as a vessel, but I'm not paying attention to him. One last deep breath. I clear my mind of what lies ahead for me and instead focus on trying to find peace. This is for the best. A chocked sob escapes my throat.

This is it.

Without a moment of hesitation, I let myself fall backwards. Michael screams in protest and grabs onto my arm. My eyes snap open and stare straight at him. Then they flicker to Dean, who's yet to move from his position. His wide eyes stare at the scene in front of him, unable to do anything. My gaze goes back to Michael. With my free hand, I grip onto the arm that's holding me in place and yank on it with all my might. His eyes widen as we both begin falling into the abyss.

The wind rushes past my face as my body free-falls deeper into the never-ending abyss. Eyes open or closed there's no difference, darkness surrounds my body. Fear claws at my insides, but it's too late to turn back. What's done is done.  
In almost an instant my body smacks onto the cold, hard ground. Aching and in pain, I slowly stand from my position. My eyes squint to try and adjust to the sudden change of scenery and take in my current surroundings. Dark stone surrounds me, encompassing me into a room of sorts. Slowly, I turn as my eyes wander around the room, empty; I'm alone, unsure if that reassures me or not. Facing forward once more, I notice a dim light. So distant it almost seems like a dream. Hesitantly, one step, then two steps until I was pitifully limping towards the only source of light. Every step closer I got, the larger and brighter it appears, then I'm standing in front of it. Only then do I realize it's not a simple light, but another portal.

"What in the..." my words are cut short, the portal sucks me into it. My vision goes black, as I lose consciousness.

* * *

 

"This day is just full of fascinating surprises it would seem." a voice cuts through the silence in my mind. A male, with a posh accent "I do wonder how she could have come through with us. I don't recall seeing her."

"It's a demon innit? You fought demons, it probably followed you!" a female this time, she sounds frantic.

"Well if she is Buttercup, she isn't a very good one," a smooth male voice this time.

"Maybe she is a mage?" a different female this time. She sounds Russian.

"But that doesn't explain where she came from. I've never seen her." the posh male cuts in. He sounds annoyed by their blatant disregard for his previous statement.

"Ugh well, whatever this friggin' thing is shoot it before it can do anything magey or demony." the same female voice exclaims.

I don't think I like her much.

"You cannot think that is a good idea." another male, he sounds exasperated. "Perhaps, a better course of action would be to simply speak with her."

That's my cue I suppose.

Slowly sitting up, I nurse my throbbing head with my hand and hesitantly open my eyes. Looking up, there's a group of six different people, one of them really short and three of them with...elf ears?

"What the fuck?" About half of the group look taken aback by my language. "Oh, did I say that out loud? Oops." Bracing my hands on both sides of my body, I attempt to lift myself off the ground. My legs wobble and the bald guy goes to my left side, placing his hands on my shoulders to help keep me steady. "Thanks," I mutter to him after he steps away from me. Close enough to help if I fall, but far enough to not be in my bubble. He nods his head in acknowledgment at my words. He's wearing cotton pants and an oversized sweater under a poorly stitched vest. He's also wearing foot wrappings instead of actual shoes and has a wood staff loosely dangling from his back.

Is he homeless? But his undeniably attractive face makes up for the atrocious wardrobe.  
"Do you know where you are? How you got here?" one of the female elves asks. She's blonde, her hair pulled back into a braid, with an intricate design of what appears to be a black tree on her face. She's wearing leather pants with an excessively long sleeveless coat over a long sleeved shirt. A decent looking bow is slung across her back.

Why do these people like oversized coats so much?

"Well, considering the last thing I remember is nose-diving straight into hell with Lucifer, it would be safe to assume, Hell." My voice is scratchy from lack of use.

"What is a Hell?" the Russian woman asks. She is dressed in plate armor with incredibly short black hair and a wicked sword on her hip.

What is this a larping convention? A Dungeons and Dragons group taken too seriously?

"It's um, Hell? You know, where demons are and where bad people go when they die." I can't tell if these people are joking or not. How could they not know what Hell is?

"Ugh kill it; kill it; kill it!" the third elf with short blonde hair and a horrible haircut and blinding plaid attire yells. She pulls a bow off of her back and notches an arrow, preparing to fight.

"Demons!" The Russian woman exclaims at the same time as the elf with the bow. "If she is an abomination, she must be put down immediately!"

I'm an abomination? That's a new one.

"Now Seeker, Buttercup, maybe we should hear the kid out?" the short dude with attempts to put the stab happy people at ease by using honey-coated words.

"Quiet Varric! If this woman is an abomination we cannot risk allowing her to live." Stabby #1 says.

"Well, I've never seen an abomination that looked like this. Or demons for that matter. Demons tend to like to be more obvious. I imagine they like to make an impression." a human man with tan skin and a perfectly twirled mustache says. He's wearing clothes with pieces of metal attached to random parts and a hairstyle that's perfectly quiffed. A shiny staff accented his slightly over the top appearance.

"Solas, do you have any opinion on this matter?" the elf with the face tattoo turns to the bald guy. She takes a small step in his direction. Throughout the entire encounter, he'd been silent, carefully watching me with a sharp gaze.

That's smart. Observe first, stab later.

"I would suggest we simply attempt to hear her side of the story. It is to be assumed she would have insight into her own predicament. Would you not agree, Herald?" Baldys got a way with words. His voice is soft and passive, but a hint of it demands authority. Herald eagerly nods at his suggestion. She looks like an eager puppy ready to please its owner.

"I too would agree with that." Herald turns to face me once more, " Well shem- human, if you would care to explain further." she stands up taller, straightening her posture. Probably in an attempt to try and intimidate me. I just stare blankly at her. Even at her tallest she only came up to below my chin.

"Like I said before, Hell; nose-diving straight into it." This conversation is exasperating. We're just talking in circles! These people are crazy, or dumb, or possibly both. Her jaw faintly clenches from the vagueness of my statement.

"You mentioned a Lucy?" Seeker asks. Her tone is heavy with suspicion. She narrows her eyes and purses her lips.

"Eh yeah, Lucifer. Fallen angel, created the first demon, major asshole who wants to destroy the world." I'm not sure how to take these people. They're strange, suspicious, and really don't like anything magic.

"And he's here!?" Seeker exclaims loudly, hand going to her sword. Buttercup, Seeker, and Herald take a step away from me. Solas just raises both his eyebrows slightly as the male human twirls his fabulous mustache. The short man looks at the other three and shakes his head and sighs in exasperation.

"You idiot, bringing such evil here!" Herald exclaims obnoxiously. I grit my teeth. It's not like I came here on purpose. Instead of dignifying her with a retort, I focus on another matter.

"Where is here exactly?" I ask. Mustache answers my question for me.

"Redcliffe. Fereldan if you want to be more general, and Thedas if you don't need the specifics." His voice silvery with a tinge of arrogance.

He seems like the guy that likes to hear himself talk.  
"Right. Next question." Seeker gives a nod for me to continue. " Where in the hell is that?"

"Well, it's...I... don't know how to answer that one." Mustache answers me once again. He furrows his brows and tilts her head slightly, staring at the floor. He taps his finger on his top lip.

"Pfffdth Mr. Mcmagey-magic-mustache-guy speechless? Never thought I'd see it." Buttercup snorts out.

"Perhaps it would allow us to better understand you if you were to tell us where you are from," Solas tells me, with a gaze that could pierce straight through. His eyes are an unreal blue that leaves me unnerved for a moment.

"America. On Earth to be precise." I tell them. Exhaustion doesn't begin to cover how I feel at this point. I should be burning in Hell right now, but instead, I'm here with Stabby #1, Stabby #2, and the rest of their goons trying to explain what Hell is.

Maybe this is Hell. Lucifer's method of torture is stupidity.

"Right. Never heard of it. Let's leave now." Buttercup deadpans. She really doesn't like me.

I don't know why. It's not like I killed her kittens or anything.

"Herald, it would be my suggestion that we bring her with us. There appears to be much more to her than we can see." Solas clasps his hands behind his back. Herald stares at Solas starstruck. Her mouth slightly ajar and green eyes wide. I raise an eyebrow and cough obnoxiously. She composes herself and turns her gaze back to me. Her mouth is in a thin line and her eyes watch me like a hawk.

"I agree Solas." Herald agrees, taking a couple steps towards me. "What is your name?" She raises her voice as if to assert dominance over me.

"Isabelle Winchester," I tell her, my chin juts up just a tad bit to show confidence. My gaze never breaks from hers. The silence is tense and she breaks, turning her eyes away from mine. I slyly smirk at the small victory.

If I won't bow to Earth's fiercest monsters, what makes her think she can scare me?

"Well, Isabelle, will you be coming with us willingly?" Seeker asks me. She since taken her hand off the hilt of her weapon, but keeps her distance and warily watches me.

"It's not like I have much of a choice," I reply and shrug my shoulders to appear nonchalant.

"What's that supposed to mean, shem?" Herald spits at me. The venom in her words rivaling the most poisonous snake. I notice that she creeps closer to Solas, partially blocking the elf from my view. "Well?" she demands, no patience or politeness in her tone. I take a deep breath and release it before I pinch the bridge of my nose. At this point, I notice Varric pull out a piece of parchment and begin to furiously scribble on the page.

"What I mean is half of you were ready to jump on 'Kill Isabelle before she has a chance to even wake up.' bandwagon. Two of you," I nod my head towards the Seeker and Buttercup, "continue to make it clear you have weapons you'll gladly use on me." I finish my small rant, maintaining a matter-of-fact manner. Everyone in the room looks stunned, except for Varric, who is still frantically writing.

The room is dead silent for a moment until it's broken by Varric, who finished his writing. He starts to laughs, and he laughs hard. Seeker glares at him while everyone else looks at him quizzically. In between his laughter, he manages to sputter a few words.  
"I like you kid." he turns to the Herald. "I say we bring her along." Herald's eyes widen at the dwarf's words. She opens and closes her mouth like a fish. The Seeker releases a disgusted scoff at Varric's words.

"Why does it not surprise you approve of someone so blatantly disrespectful?" Seeker spits at Varric. His lack of reaction shows her criticism and disdain for him is well known.

"What can I say, Seeker. She's a spitfire." Varric shrugs his shoulders. The speed of his reply further cements my previous thoughts.

"You already know my opinion on the matter, Herald." Solas smoothly chimes in. He keeps his face passive, his eyes flickering in Herald's general direction for a mere moment. She whips around to look at Solas. She tries to catch his gaze until giving up when he doesn't react. She sighs and her posture slouches. Her eyes drop to stare at the ground until looking back to me. I flash her a coy smirk and cross my arms over my chest. 

"Very well," she says, mustering as much authority in her tone as she can. "You will come with us to Haven, where we will then put you to work." Varric coughs at the end of her statement. She looks at Varric and sighs once more. "That is if you wish to," she says in a monotonous voice, obviously not pleased. Varric coughs once more. Herald sighs louder this time. "And no one will try to kill you or lock you up." she rushes the words out of her mouth and turns to face Varric. "Are you happy now?" she asks the dwarf before she walks to the exit, Buttercup trailing behind her. Not before giving me a harsh glare, motioning to her own eyes then pointing them at me.

How mature.


	2. The Family Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my beta reader, Jnhill666. Thanks for managing to make sense of my scattered thoughts!

    "Boohoo elfy elf elven glory. Boohoo. Shite, you're so friggin' elfy!" Sera exclaims ahead of me. A groan leaves my mouth, head rolling back to stare up at the sky. The sun is setting rapidly, the air is colder than what I'm properly dressed for, and no one can keep themselves from bickering for more than five minutes. It's pure torture. Sera, the elf Varric calls Buttercup, antagonizes Solas about being too 'elfy' or too 'magey'. Dorian, the tanned male, constantly lectures Solas and Sera about how 'absolutely atrocious' their attire is. He also dubs Solas as the 'Hobo Elf Apostate,’ whatever an apostate is supposed to be. Varric harasses Cassandra just to wind her up, who constantly falls for Varric's verbal bait. Meanwhile Eliana, the Herald, is practically glued herself to Solas' hip. She looks uncomfortable around everyone except Baldy. He seems to take it in stride, which makes me think that this is a regular occurrence. Everytime I look at Sera, Solas, or Lavellan my eyes always focus on their pointed ears. I don't know why it’s so hard to wrap my head around elves being real. I was literally thrown into a new world. Demons, I can handle; dwarves and mages, I can handle; but for some reason, elves keep throwing me off. Every time an elf was portrayed on Earth they were seen as majestic and otherworldly- these elves didn't quite fit the bill.

 Upon hearing my groan Sera turns and faces me. She narrows her eyes and forms a grimace that matches her crinkled nose. I stare at her, unblinking. "Got somthin' to say?" Sera defensively snarls at me and I snap back at her without missing a beat.

     "If you're an elf. Doesn't that mean everything you do is elfy?" I ask, feigning ignorance. There's sarcasm practically dripping from my mouth. She opens her mouth to yell at me but just closes it again. Taking this as an opportunity to finalize her silence I continue. "Plus the whole 'I'm not like other elves, I'm an elf that thinks that I'm better than other elves because I hate elves' is ridiculous. Stop trying to be edgy. Please." Sera stares at me dumbstruck, and so does everyone else. Even Varric seems slightly bothered by my blunt words. No one acknowledges the heavy silence that fills the group.

     At least they aren't bickering anymore.

     We continue walking as were before, Sera refuses to even breath in my general direction. I feel someone grab onto my arm. I look down to see that it's Varric. He starts to slow down and I follow his lead until we're at the back of the group.

     "Look, I get it. You're overwhelmed, maybe even a little scared, but was that really necessary?" Varric asks me. I sigh and purse my lips. Reluctantly, I shake my head no. Just because it felt good to shut Sera up doesn't mean it was the right thing to do. Varric seems satisfied with my answer. He nods his head at me and starts to walk at a normal pace once more. Oddly, Varric reminds me of Bobby, in a way.

     "We better hurry before the Seeker thinks you bolted and starts a witch hunt." He nonchalantly calls behind him. I roll my eyes and pick up my pace.

     We make it to their camp after what felt like twenty hours of walking. Immediately, everyone scatters once we reach the camp. Some go into tents while other disappear to do god knows what. Not knowing what to do with myself I look for somewhere to sit. A quick glance around the area reveals a chopped down tree log. It's secluded from the hustle and bustle of the camp, but not far enough to cause alarm. My feet are sore and my legs ache. Don't these people have horses? Not that it'd be much better, I don't even know how to ride. The campground is small, consisting of about five or six tents that are set up, a fire pit, and two desks. There are soldiers patrolling the area wearing ridiculous hats. My face scrunches up at the sight, I hope I never adopt Thedosian fashion. I half expected Dean to make a stupid pop culture joke before I remembered where I was. I sigh.

     A little while later, everyone emerges from their various places and sit around the fire. Food and water are passed to everyone, myself included. The stew we're given is sufficient in filling me up, but it tastes plain. It needs more salt along with a plethora of other spices. I open my mouth, complaints of the food quality almost pour from my mouth, but I stop myself. I've already made bad enough of an impression.

     Curse my snark and inability to control it!

     Instead I observe them. The soldiers in camp look at Eliana as if she's God incarcerate, hitting their chest with a fist and bowing their heads anytime she looks at them. Even Cassandra treats her with a subtle holy reverence. Solas keeps his interactions with the group to a minimal. Answering questions thrown his way, but never instigating conversation. He keeps his posture straight and head held high. His expressions are neutral, never conveying his true emotions. Dorian also sits up straight, but that's where the similarities end. He's constantly talking and using extravagant hand motions and facial expressions. It's a wonder he has time to breathe. Most of it is playful banter or boasting about himself. Or he's giving members of the party fashion advice. He takes great pride in his looks and style. His mustache seems to be essential to his beauty.

     The mustache is fabulous, I'll give him that.

     Cassandra stays quiet for the most part. She takes any question thrown her way seriously, a sarcastic quip nowhere in sight. The poster child of military training. Or, at least until Varric opens his mouth. Then she's throwing any insult in her vocabulary his way. And if she isn't yelling at him, she's scoffing at all of his absurd claims. Her Russian accent made every slur or noise sound much more aggressive. And her scalding hot glare complements her scathing words. Meanwhile, Varric remains unaffected by Cassandra, continuing on as if she doesn't murder him with her gaze. Much like Dorian, he exchanges banter with everyone equally. Though his favorite target seems to be Cassandra. He's got his crossbow, Bianca, to his left side and is always touching it. No matter where you are, men are always the same. My mind briefly flashes to Dean's obsession with the Impala. I also notice that everyone in the group has a nickname. Sera is Buttercup; Solas is Chuckles, Cassandra is Seeker; Dorian is Sparkles; Eliana is Shooter.

     Eliana seems to be the center of all the conversations. Everyone gives their full attention to her when she speaks. The way they treat her further establishes her leadership in the group. Even Sera treats her slightly different. Not to the extreme that Cassandra does, but she isn't constantly throwing insults at Eliana. She also continues to stick close to Solas. Sera acts the way she did on the way here. She sits on the log with one foot on the ground and the other on the log. She insults Solas, who's stopped responding to her by now. Dorian just takes her insults in stride with a witty reply that makes her snort in laughter. I guess she didn't take my earlier outburst too seriously.

     No one takes the initiative to pull me into a conversation. I don't necessarily blame them. I'm the weird girl that claims to be otherworldly who has a tendency of being a bitch when I do open my mouth. Being the only excluded person leaves me feeling isolated. And homesick. I’ve never been on my own before having spent my entire life with my family. Loneliness is a maddening thing. I sigh and set down my empty bowl as my thoughts wander to home. How are Sam and Dean? How much time's gone by? Are they hunting or living normal lives?

     "Hey kid! What's got you brooding over there?" Varric shouts from across the camp. I look up from the ground and see the group looking at me, Sera with a look of disdain. For a moment I just stare at them unblinking, until my brain catches up with current events. He's asking me? Quickly I pan through my brain for a witty reply.

     "Just wondering how much longer I've got to listen to you hearing yourself talk." I say to him, a sly smirk appearing on my face. I start to lean back, but remember there isn't a back to my seat. Varric chuckles at my reply and smacks his thighs.

     "I can always count on you having something to say." Varric tells me after he stops laughing. No one else in the group reacts to my quip. They're still staring owlishly at me. Or glaring, same difference.

     "It's my best quality. That and self-deprecating humor." I tell him. My smirk widens once he laughs again. Slowly Dorian laughs too. It's quieter than Varric and far more contained, but it's there. I look over at him and wink while raising a single eyebrow. I bring up the canteen that holds my water to my mouth and take a drink.

     "In that case, I think I've got a friend you'd get along with." Varric tells me. Cassandra scoffs at him and mutters under her breathe. Sera continues to glare at me. Her eyes are squinting to the point I don't even think she can see and her jaw is pushed out. Solas vaguely has a look of amusement on his face that Eliana takes notice of.

     "I'm flattered, really." I tell him. “But you aren't my type.” Varric snorted.

* * *

    The meal's been over for about an hour now and I've long since slinked away to the edge of camp to have some alone time. The camp has significantly calmed down, most people settling to go to sleep. I stare up at the clear sky. The stars are so much brighter here. The smell of pine and dirt fills my senses and the sound of distant animals hum in my ears.

     It's so peaceful.

     Then I felt the most bizarre sensations.

     Like someone with a cold hand is poking me. I quickly whirl around to see who it is, but no one's with me. I furrow my brows and resume my sightseeing. Then I feel it again, only this time the prodding is more invasive. My muscles tense and I turn around once more. My eyes pan from left to right. I look at where the smothering fire is and notice Solas sitting in the same spot, staring straight at me. He stands from his spot and slowly glides over to me. I warily watch him, not quite sure about his intentions. Once reaching me he takes the spot beside me and stares straight ahead not making eye contact. I can still feel the strange sensation. Finally he breaks the silence.

     “Your aura is wound tightly to yourself,” he states in a neutral tone. My brows furrow as I try to understand what he means. Was he the one doing the poking thing? I turn and stare intently at him.

     “What’s that?” He looks at me with a single brow raised. “An aura, what is it?”

     He nods his head a single time and faces forward once more. “Ah. I forget you are not accustomed to the magic here.” I snort lightly at his wording. My mild interruption doesn’t seem to faze him, however. “An aura is the very essence of a mage’s magic. An untrained mage will have an aura that is uncontrollable. While a skilled mage knows how to wield their aura to their benefit. Your’s is wound tightly to you.” I take a breath and try to process his words. I have an aura?

     “Does that mean I have magic?” I ask him, my eyes widen slightly at the possibility. Solas turns his head to look at me.

     “I cannot say for sure as of yet.” He tells me. ”Though it is peculiar that is so tame.” I smile at him and face forward once more. Solas does the same. It’s silent for a time until Solas breaks it.

     “You seem to be taking your predicament fairly well.” Solas says. My gaze wanders to the bright stars before I answer.

     “I’m a Winchester. It’s in my blood for strange things to happen.” I tell him, speaking truthfully. Between reliving Tuesday every time Dean died and being sent into Dr. Sexy M.D, ironically both being caused by Gabriel, weird is no stranger to me. He simply hums in response. “Solas?” he quirks his to the side. “Who exactly are you guys?”

     I hear him whisper a faint ‘Ah’. “I was wondering if you’ve been told already." I shake my head and he continues, addressing the green hole first. “On the day of the Conclave, there was an explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The Breach was formed from the explosion.” He points at the giant green hole in the sky. “The conclave was meant to end the Mage/Templar War, but instead it left the people of Thedas in more darkness and uncertainty then there ever was. Everyone who attended died, except for the Herald. She walked out of the Fade bearing the mark.” He continues on, explaining the current issue Thedas. The Inquisition, which everyone here is a member of, was formed to close the Breach and restore order. He explains why they were in Redcliffe. Some Tevinter Magister - whose name I can't bother to remember, but I dubbed thee ‘Sir Stupid‘ - used time travel magic to enslave the rebel mages for his ‘Master.’ He also told me about Dorian, where he and the Herald briefly disappeared into the future. When they returned, I appeared with them, unconscious. I interrupt him occasionally to ask questions here and there. He seems to thrive off of my curiosity.

     "That would explain what I saw," I tell him once he finishes talking and he gestures with his hand for me to elaborate. "When I stopped falling, I wasn't in Hell, but in an empty room surrounded by stone. I followed a small light, but when I reached the light, it looked more like a portal - which sucked me into it."

     "Interesting. I wonder if the time magic caused more ripples than originally assumed. I will have to do more research tonight in the Fade." He stands from his sitting position, holding his hand out for me to grab. Taking the offered hand, he pulls me up into a standing position. "I thank you for your time." Giving a small nod in acknowledgment he turns and walks towards one of the tents already set up.

* * *

     "Well where could she have gone?" a Russian voice demands. I wake up slowly, unsure where I am. The sound of voices makes me tense, but I recognize them. Cassandra?

     "I don't know Seeker, we didn't see her sneak off." a timid voice replies. A scout?

     "We must find her, there are too many unknowns!" Cassandra commands. She doesn't sound happy.

     "Yes Seeker." The voice replies with more vigor this time.

     Slowly opening my eyes, I take notice of my surroundings; trees and tents, with a fire pit in the middle. Still in Thedas -- so, not a dream. Sitting up my back cracks from the uncomfortable sleeping position. I rub my back that was sore from sleeping on the hard ground. Standing to my feet, I groan and follow the sound of Cassandra’s harsh voice. Joy.

     "There you are Slayer, we've been looking for you all morning." Varric. Turning around I see the dwarf nonchalantly sitting on a log. Raising an eyebrow, I step towards him.

     "Slayer?" I ask. A subtle warmth spreads through me at the nickname, a part of me touched. He gave me a nickname. Does this mean that I'm becoming a part of this ragtag group?

     "Yeah, I'm trying out a nickname for you. Everyone has one. I'm not sure if I like it or not yet." He hits the spot next to him with a hand, indicating for me to sit by him. My stomach growls, but I ignore it.

     "Right," I say, sitting down beside him. He throws an apple at me that I catch and immediately bite into. Scanning the area, I see all the familiar faces, except for four. "Where's the rest of the goons?" I ask, turning to face Varric. He snickers at my name for the rest of the party.

     "They went down to Redcliffe to help out before we leave today. Why? Missing Chuckles already?" Varric prods. He trying to cover it up with humor, but I know what he really wants. Dirt, all the juicy gossip. A scoff escapes my throat and I bite in the apple again. "What? I saw you two cozying up last night."

     "He was answering my questions," I correct. “Nothing more, nothing less."

     "Might wanna tell that to the Herald. She was staring at you the whole night." He tells me. A sigh leaves my mouth.

     "I noticed," I mutter, biting into my apple once more. “She seems… a little intense.”

     “Nah, don't worry about her. I think she's use to being around more elves than humans. Just go easy on her, ehh, Slayer?” Varric said gently. I open my mouth to respond, but Cassandra cuts off whatever I was about to say.

     "There you are!" Cassandra exclaims from the other side of the camp, she marches over to where Varric and I are sitting. She resembles a cartoon character when they’re angry. I swear there was steam coming out of her ears.

     "Where have you been?" she demands.

     "I was asleep," I answer plainly and bite in the apple.

     "We couldn't find you in any of the tents." She narrows her eyes at me, thinking she caught me in a lie. I roll my eyes at her suspicious behavior.

     Yes, I was out sacrificing babies and eating hearts. You caught me.

     "That's because I didn't sleep in a tent." My eyebrows raise at her, waiting for a reply. Her gaze slowly returns to normal.

     "Very well then. We will be leaving in a few hours, be ready. We should reach Haven before nightfall. Then, we will decide what to do with you." With those final words, Cassandra turns and marches away from me.

    "Sir yes sir," I mutter under my breath, taking a bite out of my apple.

* * *

    A few hours came too quickly. Before I could fully process it, the Herald was back, along with Sera, Dorian, and Solas. After their arrival, we started to pack up to travel. I didn't know if I was ready to leave yet, or if I'd ever be ready to leave. Who knew what I would be facing once we made it to this Haven. The people at Haven can’t be too bad if they’re trying to save the world. I know that there's generally two types of people in situations like this: the ones who will run away to his and let someone else fight their battles for them, and the ones who will actively seek out those fights because they genuinely wish to help. It takes a lot of courage to do what their doing. At the very least, I respect them. My eyes land on Lavellan who’s talking to Sera about her clan. From what I’ve gathered from Solas and Varric, she’s just warry around humans. Also, if she truly is the only person that can fix that giant hole in the sky, her behavior can be chalked up to stress. Plus being ripped from her life and thrown into this mess is no one’s idea of a good time. Maybe we’re more alike than I originally thought?

    "You okay there, Slayer?" Varric's voice breaks me out of my internal monologue. Looking to my left, I see the beardless dwarf walking beside me, trying to keep up with my strides. I slow down my pace to make it easier for him.

    "Just thinking." I answer. I look ahead of me, worrying. "Actually, there is something that's been bugging me," I tell Varric, still staring straight ahead. I hear the dwarf adjusting his crossbow currently resting on his back before he responds.   
  
    "Shoot." he simply says.   
  
    "Why are you so nice to me?" I ask him. It's a question that's been on my mind a lot lately. Even Solas, who's been nothing but kind to me still has a bit of caution. As he should, I'm an unknown to them. But Varric has been nothing but warm and chatty. Incredibly chatty. It boggles my mind. He takes in a small breath, then lets it out and turns to look at me. I meet his gaze with my own.   
  
    "You… It's just that you remind me of an old friend," he says, sadness tinged in his voice. I knew that tone all too well. I've used it so many times myself. The tone when talking about someone you've lost. Dead or just gone from your life. How many times have I used that tone of voice myself?   
  
     "Well, I hope it's my dashing good looks and sharp wit," I say in a humorous tone, trying to lighten the mood that had suddenly seemed dimmer from his words. It works like a charm. Varric playfully scoffs.   
  
    "Yeah, something like that." he quietly says. I laugh before shaking my head and staring forward again.

    “This weather is dreadful, is it not.” Dorian abruptly speaks on my other side. I jump and gasp in surprise. How long has he been there? Why didn't I hear him?

    “You scared me.” I tell him, a hand placed over my heart as I try and steady my breathing. Be still my heart.

    “Yes yes. Sorry about that, the crunching snow doesn’t seem to be doing its job. Can’t be helped.” He tells me flippantly as he waves his hand dismissively. It takes a moment for my brain to process his words, but once I do I laugh. Dorian visibly preens at my reaction. “I am quite funny, aren’t I?” He says. I shake my head at him, but the smile on my face doesn’t leave.

    Just like Cassandra planned, we arrived at Haven before the sun set. I discovered Haven is much smaller than I imagined it would. The settlement looks quaint and cute, not something that could house an impressive military organization the Inquisition supposedly is. There are villagers walking all over the place, soldiers were far and few between. Exactly how new was this Inquisition? There weren't even proper walls protecting the village. If an enemy were to attack, everyone here would be doomed. The group begin walking off once we step through the gate. The only thing separating the outside world from here is a remarkably flimsy wooden gate. I feel lost for a moment, not knowing where I’m supposed to fit into all this. Varric pats my back twice before he walks away from me.   
  
    "Good luck kid, see ya around" are the dwarf's parting words before he leaves me to the wolves. Looking around me, the only person still here is the Herald. She walks up to me and roughly grabs my arm before she begins striding forward with purpose.   
  
    "Let's go shem- girl. We're going to meet the advisors to decide what to do with you," She grumbles to me, tugging me along with her. I stumble to try and keep up with her pace, but it's no use. I see Varric by a fire pit near some stairs. I send him a helpless look before I'm dragged up the tall set of stone stairs. I don't have time to see his reaction, but I do hear booming laughter.   
  
    Before I know it, we're standing in front of the biggest building in the town, women in red robes with weird hats lingering in front of it. This must be some sort of church or religious building. There isn't time to admire the scenery before I'm thrust into the building. From behind, Lavellan begins pushing me down the hall to a big door at the very end of the building. She throws open the door and I see four people already standing around what looks like a big map. Cassandra is one of them. The Herald pushes me into the room, shutting the door behind her as she steps in.   
  
    "Let us begin.” A redhead wearing purple chain armor says ominously.


	3. Diplomacy Tends to Lead to Less Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my beta reader, jnhill66! Thanks for managing to make sense of my jumbled thoughts!

 

     

    "This is the girl that we found in Redcliffe." Cassandra's strong voice resonates in the room.

    "What is your name?" A voice of authority says. Looking at the source, I see the perfect vision of Prince Charming. Shiny armor, tousled golden hair, and amber eyes staring right at me. A scar runs over his top lip that’s currently forming a thin line. His sharp gazes watches me with distrust.

    "Isabelle Winchester. Lovely welcoming committee you've got by the way. It's a wonder people aren't lining up to join." I quip at them. My snark will be the death of me, oh wait. I've already died… twice.

    "If I were in your position, I would be more cooperative." The woman in purple says. She’s a redhead with perfectly smooth porcelain skin and bright blue eyes. They'd be a beautiful color if they weren't so cold - she's battle hardened. I've seen that look one too many times with the older Hunters, even my own brothers. She’s wearing purple chainmail style armor with a matching hood to obscure most of her face.

    "If you were in my position, you wouldn't be deciding what I should and shouldn't do. Now would you?" I smile a mocking smile at her, tilting my head to the side slightly. Her eyes narrowed to slits.

    "Enough of this." Cassandra's voice slices through the silent threats. "You will quit your nonsense and tell us everything." Her Russian accent makes anything she says sound brash, but this time her voice promises more than a disgusted scoff. Rolling my eyes, I adjust my weight to my other leg, crossing my arms over my chest. The universal sign that I’m guarding myself.

    "Not even going to introduce everyone before you start roughing me up?" I say, referring to the three people whose identities were still unknown to me. "You already know my name, and I'm not going to give my life story to strangers."

    "Commander Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition’s forces; Sister Leliana Nightingale, Spymaster of the Inquisition; Lady Josephine Montilyet, the Inquisition's diplomat." Lavellan's calm voice pierces through the room. I smile sarcastically and mockingly curtsy to the three.

    "See, that wasn't so hard now was it?" My tone exuding sass. Cullen's expression hardens as Leliana's glare deepens. Lady Josephine just looks troubled by my attitude. Cassandra clears her throat loudly, a sign for me to get on with my story. Right, how I got here.

    "So here's all I know. Please refrain from interrupting." I look at Cassandra, referring to Redcliffe Castle. "I'm from a world called Earth. Last I remember I dived head first into Hell with Lucifer."

    "He created demons in her world," Cassandra interjects. Cullen goes stiff as a board, hand hovering over the hilt of his sword. Looks massive. Could probably slice me open in one swing. Time to turn up the charm to keep him from using that.

    "Thank you, Cassandra." I sarcastically say. She has the decency to at least seem a bit embarrassed from her outburst. I let out an exaggerated sigh and rub my left eye before continuing. "As I was saying, last I remember I dived straight into Hell with Lucifer. I hit the ground, followed a bright light, and found myself in some place called Redcliffe." I say in a flat tone. I then raise my hand and in a false perky tone continue. “Any questions?”

    "I have one," Cullen says. "Why were you jumping into Hell with this Lucifer?" Ah, the million dollar question, well one of them. I lazily look around the room, trying to find a chair. I have a feeling this will take awhile.

   No chairs, damn it.

    "The answer's simple. Lucifer got out of Hell, the apocalypse was starting and the world was about to end. My two brothers were destined to end it by vesseling up with Michael and Lucifer and fighting each other to the death. Thus starting the war between angels and demons. We didn't like that. So we found another way. We figured out how to lock Lucifer back into Hell, but it involved someone being his vessel and then throwing themselves into Hell." I answer the question as if we were talking about the weather. The world ending is nothing new to me. If they weren't on high alert before, everyone certainly is now.

    "You have a demon inside of you?" Cullen questioned, his hand resting on his sword. He gets into a defensive stance, ready to attack the moment he deems it necessary.

    "No. I don't know where Lucifer is." I answer him, taking a single step back. If he starts swinging that massive sword, I have no chance of overpowering him. I need to be as close to the exit as I can be. “Plus, technically Lucifer is a fallen angel, not a demon. Big difference.” I add.

    "What is an angel? And who is Michael, why is he so important?" Leliana's French accent rings in the room. The frosty tone she once used is replaced by a subtle curiosity, but she maintains indifference towards me.

    "Angels are celestial beings, God's creation. They're kinda super powerful and the opposite of demons, except better. Well, they're suppose to be. As for Michael, he's an archangel, Lucifer's brother, and debatably the most powerful angel. My brothers being their true vessels is supposed to be symbolism or something. I think it was supposed to represent Cain and Abel, you know? Or to symbolize brother fighting brother. Who knows." I wave my hand off-handedly.

    "You keep mentioning a vessel, what is that exactly?" Cullen interjects. By now he’s relaxed his defensive stance, but still keeps one hand on his weapon. We’ve made progress!

    "It's kinda like how a demon possesses someone, but they have to have the permission of the person. The more powerful angels have something called a true vessel, which are bodies that can contain their power. Hence Michael and Lucifer needing my brothers, but any of my family members were sufficient." I tell them.

    “I hear you mentioning the term archangel. Can you tell us the difference between an angel and an archangel?” Cullen asks once more. Leliana watches me like a hawk waiting for me to slip up.

    “Archangels are the first of God’s creation and the most powerful beings in existence. There’s four of them, Michael, Lucifer, Gabriel, and Raphael. When God created humanity he told them to bow before man-kind. Lucifer rebelled and became the first fallen angel. To spite God, he twisted the soul of a human named Lilith and she became the first demon. He then proceeded to do things, like create sin and murder. A pleasant guy really.” I explain to them. The three advisors look thoughtful, Lady Josephine scribbling on her clipboard. I hear some shuffling behind me and Lavellan clears her throat. I turn around and meet her gaze.

    “You seem knowledgeable about this subject.” She says in a neutral voice. I nod at her and answer her unspoken question. I better be.

    “My dad raised my brothers and I as Hunters.” I shrug my shoulders. “We’ve been dealing with this crap our whole lives. It’s kinda the daily routine now.”

    “In what manner of Hunter do you mean?” She asks, curiosity filling her eyes.

    “We hunt the monsters that go bump at night. Demons, vampires, werewolves, vengeful spirits. You name it, we’ve probably fought it.” I tell her. She nods her head once more, taking in the information I’ve given.

    “Is this common practice in your world?” She asks. I shake my head no and stuff my hands in my leather jacket.

    “Most people think they’re stuff of legends. Hunters give up their lives killing monsters so regular folk don’t have to.” I tell them truthfully. No point in lying about the family business. Plus, it may even give me brownie points. It's no secret that us Winchesters are the self sacrificing types.

    “And how did your family get involved in this?” She continues to prod. My mind flashes briefly to when Castiel sent my brother and I back in time to stop Anna from killing our parents. Dean telling our mom her ultimate fate at the hands of Azazel and Michael wiping her memory of that night. I swallow the lump that forms in my throat and mentally steel myself.

    I’d been so young when my mom died, her death was more of a symbol of what I lost. The chance at having a regular life. A dad working 9-5 with a mom to kiss me goodnight and read me bedtime stories. That “apple pie life” as Dean so eloquently put. She was a woman in all my baby pictures, a stranger. Dean remembered her and so did Dad, but I had no memories of my own. Actually meeting her and seeing the life sparkling in her eyes made the tragedy of her death real to me. Her wide eyed wonder when Dean told her who we were and her tear stained face when she learned her fate. It haunts me everytime I close my eyes.

    “I’d rather not talk about that.” I say quietly. Flecks of sympathy linger in her bright eyes. My gaze adverts to the ground, tracing the pattern of the wood to distract my mind.

    "This information is most intriguing." Leliana says. I turn and face the three advisors. Her icy eyes are alight with fascination. Fascination akin to watching caged animals interact. A shiver runs down my spine at the image of me locked up while she pokes and prods me. "What do you suggest we do with you?" She asks the question that's been on my mind since I got here. I open my mouth to answer her, but am interrupted by the Commander.

    "I say we keep her under strict watch. The few templars we have should be sufficient if she is an abomination." I shudder at his words. He makes me sound like I'm a wild animal.

    “I agree Commander, we should keep her in the dungeons. If not an abomination, she could be working with enemy." Came Leliana's crisp and cold tone. She must be great at parties. Cullen nods in agreement.

    "I don't believe that will be completely necessary Leiliana." Lady Josephine's melodious Spanish accent flows in the room. Ever the diplomat. She turns to look at Cassandra. "Has Lady Isabelle shown any signs of ill will or bad intentions?" Cassandra shakes her head no in response to Josephine's question. Satisfied, Josephine turns back to the other advisors.

    "We cannot afford such a risk. The Inquisition is too close to closing the Breach. If an abomination were to be running free, the damage could be devastating." Cullen exclaims, a hint of desperation in his words. He probably would've protested further if Lady Josephine didn't silence him with a glare that could've rivaled Leliana. I like her.

    "Diplomacy, Commander. We cannot simply lock away things we do not understand. That is how you cause unneeded bloodshed." There seemed to be an underlying message in her voice, but I couldn't understand what she meant.

    “Herald, what is your opinion on this matter?” Cassandra asks, respect clear in her tone. Everyone’s gaze in the room shifts to Lavellan. Her hand is resting on her chin with her gaze facing the ground. She looks deep in thought. Suddenly, she looks up. Green eyes pierce through me. Then she shifts her gaze to the advisors.

    “It’s safe to assume she’s no threat.” She tells them. In that moment her voice sounds years above her age. I stare dumbstruck at her for a moment, my mind flashing to her first reaction to me. What changed? Maybe this is why everyone speaks so highly of her as a leader. Her eyes meet mine. “Plus, Solas believes her intentions are good and that she’d be a great asset to our cause. I trust his judgment.” She says, an air of finality in her voice.

    “With all due respect Herald. We can’t make decisions based on two days of travel and the word of an apostate. We need proof.” Cullen says, massaging his forehead. He cringes slightly and drops his hand. Weird.

    “And with all due respect Commander, up until a month ago, everyone here was convince I caused the explosion at the Conclave.” The three everyone in the room, except for me, flinches at her words. “I could only prove my innocence by using the mark,” She holds up her hand for emphasis, “to stabilize the Breach and nearly be killed in the process. So, forgive me if I only take your advice with a grain of salt.” Lavellan say, her eyes daring someone to argue against her. They stay silent. My respect for this woman increases.

    Lady Josephine clears her throat and I turn to look at her. A satisfied smile is planted on her face.  "You must be tired. There should be a room for you at the tavern. Just tell Flissa I sent you. We can discuss further arrangements tomorrow in my office." Taking this as my cue to leave, I give her a hesitant nod, looking at everyone in the room wearily before leaving. I half expected someone to pop out at me with a sword yelling “demon!” Luckily that never happens. As I leave the building and step onto the snowy ground, I see an armored man standing right by the door. His stance is military based - I'd say he served a couple years at least. The man's armor was mismatched, but he looks comfortable in them, so he's definitely not a new recruit.

    "Are you the Herald of Andraste everyone's been talking about?" he questions before taking off his metal helmet. The man is tanned, with dark hair that was buzzed in a classic military style.

   Who the fuck is Andraste?

    "I might be. What's it to you?" I answer him, trying to fake confidence. My head is held higher and my posture is taller. Damn it. That's the wrong answer. I don't even know what an Andraste is. Is it a cheese?

    "Huh. I thought the Herald of Andraste was an elf." he narrows his eyes at me. Though the playful smirk on his face tells a different story than his eyes. Busted.

    "Congratulations! That was a test and you passed!" I say in an over exaggerated peppy tone, throwing my hands in the air to emphasize my point. He laughs once, before straightening his posture, becoming serious once more.

    "Well, Lady Might be The Herald, could you point me to Your Worship's direction?" the man says, playing along with my game, a coy smile painted on his face.

    "Your Lady Herald is right in there, soldier." I point into the building I just came from and walk around him towards where I last saw Varric. I should let him know that I still have my freedom. Also, I should stop by and thank Solas for putting in a good word for me with the Herald.

    "Slayer! You’re a free woman!" Varric's easy going voice rings in my ear as I’m walking down the stairs. “Seeker and Curly didn’t try to put a leash on you? I’m shocked.” Varric says. He then places his hand on his chin and fakes a hurt tone. “And offended. Seeker had a leash on me in every sense but physical.”

    I step down the last stair and laugh at the image of Cassandra walking Varric around Haven with one of those leash backpacks for kids. “What can I say, I’ve got a way with words.” I tell him, faking arrogance. “It’s why I’ve died twice. Demons love personality.” I flippantly tell Varric, forgetting I’ve never actually explained what I did back home. Varric laughs loudly and shakes his head.

    “That sounds like a hell of a story and I’d kill you to hear it.” He references my joke about me dying.

    "It’s a story that’s for sure. Why don’t we get drinks in the tavern and I can tell you all about me and my messed up life?" I say to him. He nods his head and claps my back with his hands. We start walking to what I assume is the tavern. Don’t lead me astray Varric.

    “Just so we’re clear this rounds on you. Pretty sure a credit card and a few dollars isn’t gonna get me much here.” I tell Varric. He laughs louder than he did before.

    “Sure thing kid. Think of all the stories I can steal from you and sell as my own. I’ll be the richest dwarf in Thedas.” Varric jokes. This time I’m the one laughing.

    “Sorry to break it to you Varric, but someone’s already written books about me and my brothers.” I tell him faking sympathy and shrugging my shoulders. He waves his hand carelessly. Poor Chuck. Whatever happened to that guy?

    “But that’s on Earth. No one in Thedas has written about you, now have they? Until me of course.” He says, trying to sound convincing. I let out an over exaggerated groan. “Don’t worry Slayer, I’ll do ya justice. People all over Thedas will know your story.”

    “That’s what I’m worried about Varric.” I deadpan. And then in an instant, I throw my arms over his shoulder and pull him flush to me. I hear him let out an indigent noise at the sudden force. “You just better buy me drinks for the rest of my life you idgit.” I say playfully giving him a noogie.

    I finally release Varric from my clutches when I realize I’ve got no clue where we’re going. He’s idly chatting about something here or another when a thought enters my head.

    “Hey Varric.” I say interrupting his tale. He pauses and looks at me and I look down at him.

    “Who the hell is Andraste?”


	4. Charmer and Fade Talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my beta reader, jnhill66! Thanks for managing to make sense of my jumbled thoughts!

“So, Andraste’s some lady who did some things, fought some battles, was burned alive, then ascended as the wife to the Maker, who is a god?” I ask, trying to clarify if I understood the basics of what Varric told me. Sitting in the chair across from me, he nods his head and takes another sip of his drink. “And you people think my stories are outlandish.” I mutter, following Varric’s lead and drinking from my cup. The alcohol is stronger than the stuff back on Earth, not nearly as smooth with an earthy taste. Not too bad though. 

_ I wonder if my tolerance level will be the same here as it was back home. _

_ Only one way to find out. _

Varric snorts into his mug and sets it down. “I’m not too into the Chantry either, Charmer. Besides, I believed you. That’s gotta count for something.” Varric tells me. My brows furrow and my head tilts to the side with an amused smile on my face.

“Thought the nickname was Slayer? Now it’s Charmer?” I question in a playful voice. Hazel eyes sparkle in amusement with a sly smirk. Varric bellows in laughter, hand smacking against the table for emphasis. The tavern is alive with patrons at different stages of drunkenness. The faint sound of a woman playing a guitar-like instrument and singing, mingling with the strong scent of alcohol, creates the perfect ambiance for a bar.

“I’m trying it out.” Varric simply says while shrugging his shoulders in nonchalance.

“Well what else you got? ‘Cause I’m not too impressed with Charmer.” I half joke. He nods thoughtfully and taps his chin for a second. He lets out an exaggerated “hmm” and I laugh into my mug. Bitter alcohol pours down my throat, but it’s a familiar sensation that I welcome in midst of foreign surroundings.

“How about Porcupine?” He suggests. My left eyebrow lifts at the odd nickname. “You know, because you can be a bit prickly at first.” I huff, rolling my eyes at the comparison.

_ I am not a porcupine! _

“Bullshit. I’m the most pleasant person I know.” I tell Varric in a matter-of-factly tone. He snorts, droplets of his ale spraying on the table. Quickly, he sets down his cup and swallows the drink in his mouth.

“You must not get out much.” He deadpans. For a solid second I stare stone-faced at Varric before breaking. Loud, unrestrained laughter fills our table. Tears start to haze my vision, but for the first time in a long time, they’re tears of joy. Reaching a hand up and wiping away the dampness, I manage to get some semblance of control over myself.

“Whatever. I'm a joy to be around.” I smile. “And for the record, I prefer Slayer.”

“Duly noted, Sterling.” I groan, my head smacking against the table as Varric laughs once more.

* * *

_ I press my hands harder against the white doors -  Sam and Ruby beside me - to keep the hellhounds out of the room. Loud barks could be heard as they viciously bashed against the weak barrier. The doors shake from the force being applied to them and all the lights in the room were shut off. It was merely a matter of time before they would get in. Briefly looking behind me I see Dean frantically spread Goofer Dust along the window sills. _

_ I can't let him die. _

_ Not after everything we've been through. _

_ I face the doors, the thought of what will happen if the hounds get in giving me more strength to continue fighting. I let out a weird grunt from the amount of force I'm exerting. “They can't get in” repeats in my mind over and over again. Ruby crouches down, spreading Goofer Dust along the door to keep them at bay until we can figure out an escape plan. Satisfied there isn't an immediate danger, I rush over to Dean, avoiding any broken glass on the ground, to help him spread the dust. Ruby mutters something to Sam, but the ringing in my ears from the adrenaline makes it difficult to hear. My hands are slightly shaking. _

_ "Give me the blade, I'll try and fight them off." I catch the last part of what Ruby and Sam were talking about and look at them. Also hearing this, Dean whips around and stares intently at Ruby. _

_ "Sam, don't do it." Dean tells our brother. Sam looks at him confused, while I look at Ruby strangely. Why would she offer to potentially get herself killed for us to get away? She's helped us before, but she is still a demon. Demons don't make selfless sacrifices. Something isn't right. _

_ "Do you want to die?" Ruby spits at Dean, a wild look blazing in her eyes. I take a small step back, unsure of her current intentions. Dean stares her down. A tense silence settles over the room, each of us daring someone to move. Then all hell broke loose in a matter of seconds. Dean's eyes widen and he takes a step towards Ruby and Sam. _

_ "Sam, that's not Ruby!" Dean exclaims. My eyes widen and I step back into a defensive stance. The dots connect in my mind. This isn't Ruby, it's Lilith. The demon coming to collect Dean's soul. Just as quickly as the words leave his mouth, Sam goes to stab 'Ruby' while Dean is thrown back against a table and kept in place by Lilith. Sam doesn't even get a full swing before Lilith throws him against a wall, keeping him in place. She turns her gaze and I'm thrown to the ground, my head and back crashing against a wall, not a single muscle in my body able to move. I can see Dean struggling against Lilith, lifting his head as high as possible to make eye contact with the demon. _

_ "How long you been in there?" He asks her. The strain is clear as day in his voice. He continues to try and break free. My bones ache from being flung into a wall. _

_ "Not long," Lilith answers, trying to make her voice sound sweet and innocent. She looks down, swaying slightly, and when she looks back up her eyes are completely white. "But I like it, it's all grown up and pretty." Her voice is eerie. Sam speaks up next. _

_ "And where's Ruby?" Sam asks her, trying to keep his voice calm. Of course, he's focused on where Ruby is in a situation like this. I can't help but be annoyed at him. Lilith's eyes flick over to Sam. She blinks, returning her eyes to normal before her gaze returns to Dean. _

_ "She was a very bad girl. So I sent her far, far away." With each far that she said, Lilith's head tilted left, a loud crack enunciating each word. It was slightly unnerving. _

_ "Shoulda seen it before, but you all look the same to me." Dean sasses Lilith, refusing to grovel to a demon. Lilith stares at Dean with a wicked glare before turning her attention to Sam. She slowly walked over to him. _

_ “Interesting. Am I to assume this is a memory?" A smooth voice muses from right beside me. Jumping slightly, I turn to my right to see Solas. What is Solas doing here?  He's not supposed to be here, he's in Thedas. _

_ "Solas? What are you doing here?" I ask him. I quickly scan the room, but no one seems to have noticed the elf. My gaze returns to him, demanding an explanation for his sudden appearance. He stands tall, his face passive with his hands drawn behind his back, staring at the scene in front of him academically. _

_ "You are in the Fade." He simply says. "You are dreaming. This is but a moment in time you have already lived." Solas continues, not taking his gaze away from the scene. I intently stare at him for a few seconds before returning my gaze to what's happening. Lilith is standing over by the white door, a hand hovering over the handle with a sadistic expression painted on her face. _

_ "Sick 'em, boys." She opens the door, letting all the hellhounds into the room. They growl viciously, charging straight at Dean and pull his body onto the ground. They begin to rip his body to shreds. I quickly shut my eyes tight. Warm blood hits my face - I suppress a shudder. I can still hear the sound of flesh being ripped from his body, Dean's loud screams of pain, and Sam pleading with Lilith to stop them. I inhale sharply. This isn't happening right now. I'm just dreaming. I need to make it stop. Dean’s screams of pain become louder with each second until the room became dead silent. I didn't need to lift my head up to know what's happening. Dean's dead, but Castiel brought him back. Knowing this doesn't make it any less painful. Because, even though he got lucky this time, death is inevitable. Except Sam and Dean won't die of old age, surrounded by loved ones. It could be the next vampire or werewolf, maybe a vengeful spirit gets a lucky shot, or a demon has a good day. Maybe they'll sell their soul and spend the rest of eternity in Hell. Where's the peace in that? Going to a better place after death isn't a realistic future for any hunter worth their salt. _

_ ‘How do I make this stop!?’ I frantically yell in my head, tugging at my hair to try and distract my brain. I'm overwhelmed - I can't handle this anymore. Sam's sobs echo in my ears as he cries over Dean's body, begging our brother to wake up. _

_ Stop. _

_ Stop. _

_ Stop! _

"Open your eyes." I hear Solas' smooth voice whisper in my ear. I flinch away, not liking how close to me he is. But I do as he says anyways, taking in the new scenery around me. Instead of the old family home we were just previously in, I’m surrounded by green grass and beautiful flowers. The sky is perfectly blue with the right amount of clouds, the sun just beginning to rise. Birds can be heard faintly chirping while butterflies flutter around. A cute bench rests under the branches of a giant tree. The branches appeared to span for miles, causing the bench to be the ideal spot to sit, shaded from the sun's upcoming rays. The flowers surrounding the area from sunlight. It’s breathtaking. Standing to my feet I feel the warm breeze rushing through me, breathing in the fresh air. A gasp of amazement leaves my mouth as I spin to get a full 360 of my new environment.

_ It looks like Heaven. _

"How did you do this?" I manage to breathe out. I turn my body to face Solas, who's watching me. His eyes are trained on me like a hawk. The sight left me unsettled, but I’m too busy enjoying the magic of the Fade to care.

"I did nothing, the credit is yours." He says, his voice not betraying any emotions.

_ Did he say I did this? _

"How?" I blurt out before I can stop myself. He merely chuckles, evidently amused by my childlike wonder. Though instead of answering the question, he simply changes the subject.

_ Sneaky bastard! _

"This is another memory?" Solas questions. I continue to stare him down, trying to figure out why he felt the need to change the subject so abruptly. It’s not like I asked for his Social Security Number or the Thedas equivalent of that. Realising that staring at him won't give me the answers I need, I answer him truthfully.

"Heaven." I turn my gaze back to the flower garden and the bench under the tree. My feet move, stepping closer to the bench, as I try to enjoy this memory where no one is dying. Angels may be self - righteous dicks who only care about themselves, but Heaven is well… heavenly. I snort at the small joke.

"And the previous one?" Solas asks from behind me. I stop in my tracks for a moment and hear him stop behind me as well. He's so close I can practically feel his breath on the back of my neck. Goosebumps begin to form from his proximity, but not the good kind. I hate having someone in my blind spot so I turn, looking at him.

"The night my brother died." I simply say. Solas hums in reply, obviously prompting me to continue into further detail.  _ Someone’s nosy _ . "He made a deal with the demon Lilith to save my brother Sam, who had died. A year later, she and her hellhounds came to collect the debt, and Dean went to Hell." I tell him, trying to keep the trembling out of my voice.

Those six months without Dean were horrible. Sam had completely gone off the deep end in demon blood and cut off all contact with Bobby and I. He became obsessed with Ruby. Nothing I said or did could snap him out of it. We argued about it a lot, but I still stayed with him. He was the only family I had left, and I refused to abandon him like he did when he ran off to college. One day, when we stopped at Bobby's house to research a hunt, he left and never looked back, not until Dean got out of Hell. Even though I knew it was a combination of demon blood and Ruby's influence, a small part of me never forgave him for it.

"You did not mention either of your brothers being dead." Is his nonchalant response. I snort quietly to myself. A Winchester never stays dead for long.

"That's because he's not. Six months after going to Hell, he was ripped from perdition by an angel named Castiel." With that answer I continue forward to the bench, aching to enjoy the simplicity and serenity of this meadow, even if it’s not real. Lord knows I'll never get this in the waking world.

"Ah, I see." I hear Solas' footsteps as he follows behind me, sitting beside me once I finally make it to the bench. I stare in wonder at the beauty of the lovely looking daisies. "You mentioned this is a place called Heaven. Am I to assume Heaven is the opposite of Hell?" He inquires, his gaze watching the tree branches swaying in the wind.

"That's the idea," I answer him, wishing this could be a real place outside of death or a dream.

"And the angels, are they the opposite of demons?" I scoff and roll my eyes at the mention of angels. He looks at me, curiosity all over his face from my reaction.

"That's also the idea." I pick up a branch I'd found nearby and throw it out in front of me. "Personally, I think all angels are a bunch of dicks." I pause for a moment. "Well, not all angels." I correct myself, thinking of Castiel and even Gabriel. I smile fondly for a moment until remembering Cas’ death and the smile is wiped off my face. Solas raises an eyebrow at my complete change of expression but chooses not to prod. Good boy.

"If we are in Heaven - where people who die go - and this is a memory, am I to assume you have died before?" He questions. I look up at the clear blue sky, fabricated by the Fade. I take in a deep breath before I answer his question.

"Yup. When Lucifer first got out of Hell, a few hunters broke into the room we were sleeping in and killed my brothers and I. We went to Heaven and managed to escape."

"Do the people in your family die often?" He muses, in what I assume is supposed to be a sarcastic retort. I just snort in reply.

_ If only he knew how true that statement is. _

“How unlucky of your family. Your brother dying, the other selling his soul to save him. Then you sacrificing your life to save your world.” Solas muses from beside me. Shrugging my shoulders I grab onto one of the leaves from the tree branch above me.

“It’s the family business.” I say plainly. He looks at me with his head faintly cocked to the side. “My brothers and I were raised as Hunters.” Solas nods in understanding and faces forward once more.

_ He got an issue with too much eye contact or somethin’? _

“The Herald filled me in on your upbringing. I couldn’t imagine it would be so…” He trails off, evidently unsure of how to continue his statement without sounding insensitive.

“Self sacrificing?” I fill in for him. He nods at my interjection. I simply shrug my shoulders again, ending the conversation there. Minutes tick by in silence. Until loud rambunctious laughter escapes my lips. Solas looks at me from the corner of his eyes but doesn't move his head. I turn to look at him after managing to compose myself.

"I guess you could say I'm not much of a dog person," I tell him, referring to the hellhounds from my previous memory. Solas turns to face me. He chuckles softly at my comment.

"What a shame." is his reply. There's a glint of amusement in his eyes, obviously referencing a joke or something that I don’t know about.

_ He’s a strange bald elf. _

* * *

 

After waking up the next day I set out to learn about the Fade. I go to the first person that came to mind, besides Solas. The big, bad  _ mage  _ from Tevinter. 

“Dorian!” The mage in question turns around at the sound of his name. His eyes land on my form and a cheshire smile appears instantaneously on his face. He arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow. Stepping into the almost completely vacant Chantry, heavy incense smacks my nose. The thick smoke enters my mouth and causes my throat to constrict. I cough and walk-in Dorian’s direction to close the remaining distance between us. “I need your help.” I tell him. His eyebrow arches even higher. Promptly the book in his hand shuts and he carelessly throws it in the general direction of a table nearby.

“And what is it our resident world traveler needs from a dashingly handsome, charming, and dastardly intelligent mage such as myself, I wonder?” Dorian says. His eyes are alight with intrigue and his perfectly twirled mustache fidgets slightly on his curved top lip.

_ How humble of him. _

“I went into the Fade last night.” I tell him. I open my mouth to continue, but the words are overshadowed by Dorian’s raised voice.

“You what?” Dorian gapes at me, like a fish out of water.

“I went to the Fade.” I say, my voice wavering the slightest. Now he’s got me doubting myself. “Solas was with me. I was in the middle of a memory and it just… changed. Solas said that I did it, but he won’t tell me how.” I quickly mutter out before he has a chance to interrupt me again. The dumbstruck look on his face doesn’t change. “Is that… bad?” I ask him.

“You’re not a mage.” He says in a serious tone. All previous joking wiped off. His mouth now forms a tight thin line and his eyebrows are scrunched. I nod my head in agreeance to his statement.

_ I’d know if I had magic. _

_ Someone would have taken a fireball to the face by now. _

“And you say you… changed it?” He clarifies. I nod my head once more.

“I was reliving a memory that wasn’t too pleasant. I thought of somewhere else and boom! New surroundings.” He opens his mouth and I cut him off. “And it was somewhere from my world. Solas had no way of knowing about it, much less what I was thinking.” He immediately closes his mouth and places his hand on his jawline.

“Mages are the only people conscious when going into the Fade. Even then it’s rare for a mage to be able to easily bend the Fade to their will, in the Imperium they’re called somniari. Somniari can shape the Fade and enter the dreams of other people. This also tends to attract demons to the Dreamer, which usually leads to possession. And we know how bothersome abominations are.” He taps his chin thoughtfully and releases a faint “hmm.” His hand reaches behind his body and picks up the book he threw earlier. “I’ll do some research, maybe I’ll find something helpful.” My face brightens instantaneously. “But I wouldn’t count on it. I don’t think ‘The Maleficarum Imperium: Edition 66’ will help too much.” He flippantly says. Giving a single wave he marches off into the direction of Haven’s library. I watch the mage as he swaggers off.

_ Even the way he walks is fabulous. _

“You must be the new oddity the Herald picked up.” An elegant voice fills the quiet Chantry. I look in the direction of the voice to see a black woman. She's tall, bald, and unbelievably confident.

_ Another bald mage? Do all southern mages have fifty shades of bald? _

She’s dressed in an extravagant white and silver robe with an extreme plunging neckline. Her appearance and overall persona give off a Maleficent vibe. “How… anticlimactic your actual appearance is.” She says in a patronizing tone. Her eyes rake over my attire, donning a condescending expression the entire time.

_ Bitch. _


	5. Demons and Booze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long I'm so sorry!!! Things have been crazy the past few months, but things have finally settled!

“You must be the new oddity the Herald picked up.” An elegant voice fills the quiet Chantry. I look in the direction of the voice to see a black woman. She's tall, bald, and unbelievably confident. I sense a cold aura wrapped around her body. The thrum of it causes a weird sensation to wash over me. Not necessarily bad or good, just different. Certainly nothing sexual! It’s similar to when Solas was poking around my ‘aura’ as he called it, but instead of her poking and prodding me, it’s tightly wound to her body. It’s like she trying to guard herself. That must be magic. Makes sense that the lady that looks like a villain straight from a Disney film would be a mage.

 

_ Another bald mage? Do all southern mages have fifty shades of bald? _

_ She's got a real Maleficent vibe going. _

She’s dressed in an extravagant white and silver robe with an extreme plunging neckline. Her appearance and overall persona give off a Maleficent vibe. “How… anticlimactic your actual appearance is.” She says in a patronizing tone. Her eyes rake over my attire, wearing a condescending expression the entire time. 

  
_Bitch._

“Sorry I didn’t meet your demon requirements.” I tell the woman in a deadpan tone. My eyebrows raise at her as I purse my lips. Folding my arms across my chest and placing most of my weight on one foot, I wait for the woman’s reply. She merely looks down at me with a gaze of indifference. Her wrinkled nose is the only giveaway of the distaste she evidently has for me.

 

_ Well get in line, sister.  _

 

“Why, from the tales I heard about you falling from the future, claiming to be for another world, I envisioned you to be less… simple looking. Something far more extravagant looking, darling.” She tells me, a single perfectly arched eyebrow raised at me. Her facial expression practically challenges me to take her bait. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, my face returning to it’s neutral expression. The mature thing to do would be to just walk away. It would be smart of me to not get into cat fights with everyone I meet. The exit is only a few steps away, all I need to do it move my feet in the proper direction. 

 

_ But hey, I’ve never had good self-control.  _

 

_ Bring it, Harry Potter. _

 

I straighten my back. I take a step towards her and shift my weight to the tips of my toes to appear more graceful, almost predatory. I lift my chin up and raise a single eyebrow, mimicking her. My eyebrows aren’t nearly as arched and polished as hers, nor do I have on a layer of makeup to accentuate every curve and contour of my face, but I’ve got two things every Winchester is a natural at. 

 

One: a bitch face.

 

Two: sass. 

 

_ That is exactly what I’m going to give this Witchy Mcwitch Bitch. My silver tongue has gotten me out of jail repeatedly, among other things, and I'm sure it can help me here.  _

 

_ Hopefully. _

 

“Do you remember when I asked for your input?” I mimic her condescending tone. Judging by the eyebrow raise and subtle look of surprise on her face that she masks elegantly with indifference, my imitation wasn’t too bad. Before giving her even a small chance of replying I snap back at her again. “A mistake like that is… unfortunate, yes? Tossing insults out when you are unaware of the other person's strengths is unwise. We should think carefully before we act, my dear. Otherwise you may irritate the wrong person and it will bite you in the ass.” I take another step closer to her, fiercely holding the woman’s gaze, refusing to back down first. She stares intently at me, her face the practiced passivity that I could never think of obtaining.

 

_ And to think, Dean made fun of me when I told him I wanted to take acting classes. ‘Won't help in the real world’ my ass.  _

 

“Very good darling, although next time I recommend keeping out the vulgar language and trying to be less smug about your insults. It can take the bite out them, indifference is key. As soon as we fix that disaster of a wardrobe you have, there’s potential you could actually be of use to the Inquisition.” The woman says to me in a smug tone and a small curl of her lips. My mind goes blank, not expecting her to react that way to my words. 

 

 _Whiplash,_ _I’m getting whiplash._

 

With a single nod of approval of her own words, the woman turns from me and walks in the opposite direction of the exit. Her perfectly manicured nails gleam in the dim light as her hands fold behind her back. Walking with the poised grace of a cat she leaves my view, turning into one of the many doors in the hallway. I turn my head and stare ahead of me. I let the persona drop. My eyes wander from left to right and I scratch my head.

 

_ What the hell just happened? That’s not how insults usually play out. _

 

“Are you alright dear?” A delicate voice pipes up from beside me. I turn to the woman standing beside me. She dressed in red and white robes (which seems to be the outfit that most women here are wearing) with a ridiculously large, pointy hat.

 

_ What is it with religion and dumb hats? _

 

She’s black with a soft and kind face, unlike the woman before, with incredibly plump lips. Her smile is close-mouthed, but endearing nonetheless. Her eyes, on the other hand, are wider than a genuine smile would cause and her eyebrows are raised just the slightest.

 

“I’m fine, thank you.” I tell her, throwing on my best smile. I put my hand out in front of me to try and convey my lack of need for help.

 

“Are you sure? Either myself or any of the other sisters would love to hear about your...  _ story _ .” She continues, taking another step towards me. I refuse to move backward or let her gain the upper hand. Her smile doesn’t falter for a moment. At this point, the 'happy, judgment-free person' vibe is more creepy than relaxing.

 

_ Wait a minute. _

 

_ Does she think I’m crazy or something? _

 

“Really, I’m fine.” Almost like I flipped a switch, I let myself grin playfully. Looking down at my wrist, I pretend that I’m wearing a watch. I’m sure this is thoroughly convincing her that I’m sane. “I’ve got to go, like… right now.” Not giving the woman any time to reply, I turn and bolt out of the chantry building. 

 

Running into the crisp cold air outside, I take a deep breath. Stupid religious people and their hats. Clearing my thoughts, I focus on what I need to do today and make a mental checklist.

 

  1. Talk to Solas about the Fade (if he’ll even tell me, that man dodges questions like there's no tomorrow).
  2. Meet with Josephine about living arrangements.
  3. Catch up with Dorian on research progress.
  4. Don’t die.
  5. Profit… or is it get drunk? Profit and get drunk. (Maybe find pie? It's always nice to have comfort food).



 

With renewed energy and a list to complete, I begin to confidently walk forward. My head is held high and I feel like I’m walking on air. My footsteps faltered when I realized an important factor in completing the first step.

 

_ Where the hell is Solas at? _

 

I groan and stare at the ground. Varric is the only person I know how to find, hell if I know where anyone else is at! Well, I do know where the advisors might be, but I don’t necessarily want to talk to go back into the chantry if it can be avoided. It would be easier to just talk to her since I’m already right by the building. But then again, I  _ really _ don’t want to go in there. I should just get it out of the way as soon as possible.

 

My shoulders slump as I turn and face the building I’d left in a hurry mere moments ago. My confidence and energy shrinks. Do I really have to go back there? Maybe not, Lady Josephine might be holed up somewhere else! False hope fills my system, my eyes scanning the visible buildings in Haven. I see a tent where Leliana is working. My gaze quickly adverts from the tent.

 

_ Hell naw. _

 

Upon investigating the rest of the buildings, the false hope slowly began to dwindle. It doesn’t seem like there’s anywhere else she could be except for the church. A heavy sigh leaves my mouth. I turn to face the dreaded building once more. There are two ladies standing by the side of the door, dressed in the same red and white Chantry robes, their hats smaller than the woman before, but ridiculous nonetheless. They’re talking about something as one of the women reaches out and playfully smacks the other. The woman being smacked covers her mouth with a pale hand, giggling louder at the woman’s reaction. 

 

“Excuse me.” I interrupt them. 

 

 _Good lord._ _What is this, high school?_

 

They both grow silent immediately upon realizing someone was watching them. The pale one continues to giggle quietly, desperately trying to pull herself together. The other one gives a stern stare at the other woman before averting her gaze to me.

 

“Yes?” She asks, clasping her hands together as they lay comfortably in front of her body. She raises her chin and tilts her head to the side. Her once playful expressions now replaced with a cool passivity. A kind smile graced her lips, trying to seem welcoming. 

 

“Do you know where I can find Lady Josephine?” I ask her, trying to make my voice sound light. Her eyes light up slightly and a soft “Ah” leaves her lips. The woman points at the door leading into the church. 

 

“Her office is in the Chantry. Go straight down, and it’s the last door on the left.” She answers. I nod my head gratefully at her, sending a tiny smile their way before walking into the lion's den I escaped mere moments ago. The strong scent of incense fills my lungs. The bald witch is nowhere to be seen and neither is the priestess with the abnormally tall hat. A breath of relief is released from my mouth.

 

_ I’ll take my victories where I can get them, even the small ones.  _

 

_ Especially the small ones. _

 

The instructions the robed woman outside gave me ring in my head as I navigate through the heavy incense. How anyone can be in here for extended periods of time is beyond my comprehension. Finally reaching the end of the long entryway, I turn to the left facing the last door. I raise a single hand formed into a fist and knock once. The sound of paper being shuffled around and a delicate voice speaking in a tone too soft for me to decipher comes through the door. A moment later the same lyrical voice I know as Lady Josephine calls out.

 

“Come in!” Following the instructions, I open the door and step into the room, shutting the door behind me. Standing beside a table in a corner by the door is a female elf with short cropped hair. A deep blue robe with gold detailing gives the impression that she’s most likely a magic user. 

 

_ Mages and their ridiculous dresses. _

 

“Ah Isabella, it is good to see you. How did you sleep last night?” Josephine asks me, standing up from her chair behind her desk. I smile at her and step closer to her desk until my thighs are lightly pressed against the smooth wood. 

 

“I slept well. How are you today, Lady Josephine?” I ask her, holding my hand out for her to shake, which she accepts. Her dainty smooth hands are a deep contrast to my calloused hands. A small part of me began to feel self-conscious about it. I’ve never been entirely feminine. Between growing up with two boys and never staying anywhere long enough to make any lasting friends, I ended up a little tomboyish. 

 

“I’m doing well, but please, I insist you simply call me Josephine.” I release my hand from her grasp and nod. She gestures to the chair behind me, giving a blinding smile. “Please take a seat.” Complying with her suggestion, I sit down in the slightly uncomfortable chair as she does the same, sitting in her plush chair. Her posture perfectly straight and her head held high as she folds her arms to rest on the desk. “Now, about your living arrangements. Unfortunately, Haven is far too small to meet the size demands of an organization such as the Inquisition, amongst other things.” She trails off at the end, seeming to get lost in her own mind for a moment before snapping herself back. “A room in the tavern is the best we can offer.” I nod at her statement.

 

“Sounds good to me.” I tell her, trying to sound as polite as possible giving her my best smile possible. I try to rein in my excitement.

 

_ I get to live in a place with nonstop booze! Dean would be so jealous! _

 

In return, a small smiles graces Josephine's delicate features, which complements the whole ‘sweet innocent noblewoman’ thing she has going on. “There is another matter that should be addressed. What skills can you offer the Inquisition?” She asks. My mind freezes at her simple question. 

 

_ What would I be able to offer them? None of my hunting knowledge is useful here. I don't think they have pool tables or credit cards, which was my main way of getting cash. And I most definitely wouldn’t be a good diplomat or anything to do with paperwork. I know how to sew stitches, but don't they have mages for that? I could research topics for them, maybe, but I don't know how this world works enough to do a good enough job digging. Something tells me that they don't exactly have Google.  _

 

“I - I don’t know.” I pause for a second, but my mind is still blank. Josephine nods understandingly. A lump suddenly forms in my throat as an unfamiliar emotion settles over me. 

 

_ Uselessness.  _

 

“I’m sure we can find something for you to do while you’re here.” She stands from her chair and I do the same thing. “In the meantime, just get settled in Haven. You’ve had a hectic week, I’m sure you could use some time to adjust.” 

 

“Thank you.” I tell her while nodding my head ever so slightly. Whirling around, I quickly bumble awkwardly out of the room and make my way outside of the Chantry. The rays of the sun hit my skin and the cool air hits my face after stumbling my way outside. 

 

_ Time to check that off my list. Step two: talk to Solas about the Fade.  _

 

_ Step two, part a: Where does Solas stay? _

 

I spin around to try and find someone to ask. There’s a single guard walking across the way about ten feet away from me. 

 

“Hey you! You with the dumb hat! Come here!” I yell after him, ungracefully charging towards him.

* * *

 

There are two small cabins tucked together on both sides with two in front of me. It's a bit secluded from the rest of the small village, but still close enough in case there are any emergencies. I catch Solas lingering outside of one of the cabins. He’s staring off into the distance dramatically. There are maybe one or two people ocasionally going in and out of one of the cabins in front of me, but for the most part this are is desserted. That's probably why Solas prefers sleeping here.

 

_ What a drama queen. _

 

“Hey baldy!” I call out. Solas is pulled from his thoughts and turns to look at me. As usual, his expression is unreadable, nothing in his body language giving away any emotions he’s tucking away from view. When he makes no move to meet me halfway, I continue towards him, trying to appear more in control of my feet.

 

It didn’t work.

 

Somehow I managed to snag my foot on a rock or something and stumbled forward. I managed to gain proper footing before crashing to the ground completely, but the damage had been done. Someday I won’t make a complete ass out of myself.

 

And that day is not today. 

 

“Isabella, I assume you slept well last night.” Solas says to me once I’m standing in front of him. There’s a hint a knowing smirk on his face, breaking his emotionless facade. The tone of his voice doesn't betray any humor, but the look on his face it the only tell needed. 

 

_ Ass. _

 

“Oh I’m sure you’d know all about that.” I grumble. His eyebrows raise at my reply. He seems to do a lot of eyebrow-raising when we talk. Must be a mage thing. “But that’s not what I came here to talk about.” I flippantly wave my hands, simulating physically removing my previous comment from the conversation. His eyes squint at me. “Well, kinda.” His eyes squint even more. “I’m not here to yell at you if that what you think.” I finally huff out, feeling mildly flustered at his scrutiny. 

 

“But it does involve our… shall we say, Fade excursion.” He says in that infuriating smooth voice. 

 

“You’re damn right it does!” I say louder than originally intended, jabbing my pointer finger in his direction. From the point of view of someone watching our exchange it could look like we’re fighting. Are we fighting? Is this what fighting with Solas looks like? Huh. Thought there’d be more ice chunks in my face. “Listen, this morning I talked to Dorian…” My sentence is cut off when he quietly snickers, causing me to pause mid-phrase. “Something funny, Eggsly?” I ask. He shakes his head and places a hand over his mouth in an attempt to quieten himself.

 

“Please continue.” He mutters after gaining a semblance of control over himself. I slightly squint my eyes at him, still suspicious of what made him react like that. 

 

“Anyways, as I was saying.” Suspicion laced in my voice before remembering my original question, which snaps me into serious mode. “I talked to Dorian this morning, and he said as someone who isn’t a mage, I shouldn’t be able to change the Fade willy - nilly.” Solas nods. “Now as someone who talks an awful lot about the Fade, I figured you would know what’s up with that.” 

 

“I do not know how you did what you did last night.” He says and I hold back a groan. 

 

_ For someone who acts like he knows a lot, he doesn’t seem to really know a lot. _

 

“But I will search the fade tonight and consult some friends to try to come up with an answer. That is all I can offer.” My mouth twists into a slight unsatisfied grimace, but the rational part of me knows that my situation is entirely new. I nod my head and let out a heavy sigh.

 

“Fair enough. Thanks in advance.” I mutter to him before turning around with the intent of finding something fun to do. After turning around, I see Lavellan watching our exchange from a few feet away. I nod my head at her as I’m walking past her. A tight smile graces her face in response. As I’m leaving I see her make a beeline to Solas. They begin jabbering about elfy things that I can’t be bothered to pay attention to. After a moment or two of speed walking and jumbled thoughts, I spot a familiar dwarf. 

 

“Hey Varric!” I call out to him, already rushing to his direction. 

* * *

 

“Listen, I'm not saying I’m a hero or anything, but I have saved the world twice now.” I finish telling Varric, shoveling some type of stew into my mouth. After finding Varric, we decided to come into the tavern to grab some food, which of course led to joking (me) and unrealistic stories (Varric). The tavern isn’t nearly as loud as it was last night, but there’s some bustling here and there. Most of the patrons are either soldiers on a lunch break or villagers trying to get a quick meal before jumping back into their daily routines.

 

“So modest! It’s a wonder people aren’t singing your praises, Slayer.” He sarcastically quips, taking a swig of his drink, which I discovered today that they call ale.

 

“I know. It’s become incredibly draining to deal with the infamy. Why yesterday, I had to force a group of citizens to not build a statue in my honor.” I exaggerate to Varric. The dwarf simply shakes his head at me with a smile on his face.

 

Taking a quick sip of my drink, my eyes wander around the room, observing the various patrons in the tavern. My eyes land on a group huddled together at a table nestled in the corner of the room. They’re all close together muttering viciously to each other, a few pointing here and there when their gazes land on me. A couple of them stare at me with wide terrified eyes, while the remaining people in their group glare harshly at me. 

 

Rude.

 

“Hey Varric.” I catch the dwarf's attention and gesture to the group, who still haven’t removed their piercing gaze from me. “What’s up with them?” I ask. He turns to follow where my finger is pointed and as soon as his eyes lock on them, he sighs heavily.

 

“Don’t worry about that Slayer. Some people here are too suspicious for their own good.” He shakes his head and goes back to eating his food. I nod thoughtfully at his words.

 

_ Too suspicious for their own good. _

 

“So people here think I’m some sort of demon?” I clarify. He nods. “Psh how stupid. If I was a demon trying to destroy this organization from the inside out, there’s a few things I’d do differently.” I say as a matter - of - factly. 

 

“Oh, I’ve gotta hear this.” Varric mutters.

 

“First,” I hold up a single finger. “I’d be a hell of a lot nicer to everyone here, while simultaneously buttering up The Herald. You know, friends in high places and all that.” Varric nods in agreeance. “Second,” I hold up two fingers. “I’d be a little more subtle. Claiming to be from another world doesn’t really scream subterfuge.” 

 

“Can’t argue with that.” He says. 

 

“And three,” I hold up a third finger, taking a drink from my ale. “I’d bring better alcohol.” My face twists into a grimace from the bitter drink. Varric laughs heartily at my reaction. “Seriously, this tastes like stale feet.” I tell him quickly setting the cup on the table.

 

“You didn’t mind it much last night.” He points out. I simply shrug.

 

“Listen man, sometimes you just need to get drunk. And I needed to be drunk. You gotta do what you gotta do.” He laughs louder than before and holds his cup in the air. I grab my cup and follow suit.

 

“No truer words have been spoken!” Varric says, clanging our cups together. At the same time, we lower our mugs and take big gulps from it. Shortly after making that decision, I immediately regret it once the copious amounts of ale hit my taste buds.

 

“Bad idea, bad idea.” I mutter, coughing heavily after forcing the liquid to fully go down my throat.

 

“Ah. The smell of rancid ale and sloppy drunks, just another layer to the charm of the south.” Dorian’s voice sounds from behind me. I turn to face his while still slowly dying. 

 

“Dorian!” I exclaim in a rough voice, my throat still raw from my choking fit.

 

“Sparkles! Never thought I’d see you in here.” Varric says to Dorian at the same time as me. 

 

“We appear to agree on that.” Dorian says in a short voice. He practically glides over to my side, taking a seat in the chair beside me. Even if he wasn’t dressed in clothes that are obviously outrageously expensive and he wasn’t groomed to perfection, Dorian would still stick out like a sore thumb. His posture is too stiff and elegant for this scene, and unlike the majority of people in here, myself probably included, he shows a semblance of manners. “I’m here to talk to our resident Demon Slayer.” He says smoothly. 

 

“I’m so flattered you went through the trauma of coming in here just to talk to me.” I tell him. “Should I push my luck and offer you a drink?” A coy smile is on my lips. Dorian scoffs at the notion of drinking in here.

 

“I wouldn’t count on that.” He counters swiftly. “Mainly because I know you wouldn’t be the one paying.” My grin widens at his response as I glance over at Varric, who’s been intently watching our exchange with a smirk on his face. “I’m here to talk about the little thing you told me about this morning.” He says.

 

“Oh this outta be good. What ‘little thing’ is he talking about?” Varric’s eyes are alight with mischief and I can see the cogs turning in his head. No doubt he’s creating a story of his own. 

 

“Nothing big, just Fade stuff.” I dismiss, trying to downplay my situation. I’ve already got enough attention on me as is. From the corner of my eye, I spot Dorian gawking at me.

 

“What! Nothing big? Not only did you enter the Fade, but you managed to bend it to your will. That alone is a remarkable feat for a mage, but you don’t even have magic!” He exclaims, a hint of offense at my previous words. Varric’s mouth drops and his eye widen to the size of an anime character.

 

“You changed the Fade? Slayer, I don’t know much about the Fade or magic in general, but even I know that’s major.” He tells me, talking a drink of his ale.

 

“Hey guys, can you speak up, I don’t think Leliana heard from her tent!” I yell obnoxiously at them leaning forward in my seat. Varric winces while Dorian gives me a playful glare.

 

“Hey creepy! Can you not be so loud with your creepy shite!” I hear a familiar voice yell from a few feet behind me. I turn my head to see Sera swiftly walking to our table with a drink in hand. Upon reaching it, she plops down between Varric and me. 

 

“Yes, please, sit, join us.” I sarcastically say to her.

 

“Shut it! I’m only here cause right now you're the most interesting thing happening in this shite hole of a tavern.” She says, taking a large gulp of her drink. “Plus you ain’t too bad to look at. I can deal with the creepy weird stuff. As long as you don’t get too demony else I’m gone.” She tells me loudly slamming her drink on the table.

 

“I do love to observe the manners taught in the south up close and personal.” Dorian sarcastically mutters beside me. I stifle a laugh, trying to hide it by taking a sip of my drink. The acidic liquid goes down easier this time, mainly because my mouth is becoming desensitized to the burn.

 

“Psh! At least we ain’t killing babies and bathing in blood like you Tevinter lot!” Sera loudly says. I feel hints of spit hitting my face, but I force myself to not think about it.

 

“Oh yes, because everyone in Tevinter is a crazed blood mage! Our secret has been revealed.” Dorian exclaims sarcastically, a hint of annoyance tinging his tone. Sera opens her mouth to say something back but I swiftly interrupt whatever she was going to say.

 

“Well as I always say, everything in moderation. A little blood sacrifice here, a little demon deal there never hurt anyone.” I say in a playful tone as I turn and wink at Dorian, whose smirking. “It’s when you start laughing evilly that it’s gotten out of hand.” Dorian laughs and I see Varric face palming out of the corner of my eye. Sera’s eyes are wide in horror.

 

_ Someone doesn't know what sarcasm is. _

 

“No! Any demon shite is bad!” Sera yells, standing from her seat. I place my hand over my mouth to try and stifle my laughter. “Bad. Bad. Bad. Bad!” Her words become rushed and panicked. I feel a small pang in my chest, feeling slightly bad for working her up. Especially since the first time we met, I snapped at her (which I later apologized for).

 

“Alright, alright, I know what we need to do. In the words of a great hero I know: Sometimes you just need to get drunk. So let's just get drunk and shut up.” Varric steps in, sensing that the situation was quickly taking a heavier turn.

 

“Here here! They sound like a brilliant person that everyone should take advice from!” I exclaim while raising my cup and taking a larger gulp than usual. At the mention of drinks and the lack of demons, Sera visibly relaxed and throws herself back into the chair. She grabs her cup and immediately starts downing it.

 

“Those were your words Slayer.” Varric deadpans.

 

“Exactly.”


End file.
